


They say school days are the best days of your life

by Sansastarklives



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones Fusion, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-15 12:53:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/849782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sansastarklives/pseuds/Sansastarklives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Sansa is starting university in London, where an old friend of her Mother teaches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sansa's first day at university.

When Sansa woke up she was gasping. The sheets clung to her, soaked in her sheet. Her heart hammered fiercely against her chest, threatening to break free. Her ocean eyes were wide and full of fear, haunted from the nightmares in her sleep. She had been screaming. She had been running. She couldn't remember why she was running or what she was running from. She remembered the fear. She just needed to run. Run faster. She tossed and turned in her bed, begging her mind to turn off so that she could go back to sleep. Once she realised that there was no hope, she dragged herself out of bed and tried not to think about today. 

She pulled on a pale blue jumper with a white collar popping out at the top and a pair of dark jeans. She allowed her auburn hair to fall in loose curls against her back. She spun around, studying her reflection in the mirror, trying to find some kind of fault in her outfit. She couldn't afford one: everything had to be perfect today. 

"Lovely," a voice like silk called out behind her. Margaery stood tall and beautiful in her loose crimson dress. Her dark hair was fixed in a tight bun on top of her head: not a single hair out of place. Her every step was elegant as she glided over to Sansa and wrapped her in a tight hug. "I know that it's your first day of university, sweetie, but there's no need to look so scared!" She chimed. Sansa glanced at her reflection and saw how pale she really was.

"Oh, I know. I can't help it." Sansa muttered. Her eyes rested on the door. "Wait, how did you get into my room?" A sly smile spread across Margaery's face.

"I knew you'd forget to lock your door! You're too trusting, Sansa. Anyway you live in the university dorm, these doors are really shitty and easy to break into. I should know." Margaery's eyes shone with mischief, she was a bit older than Sansa and had been at the university a year longer. If there was a way to get into someone's room, Margaery would know about it. "Anyway time to go." Her hand wrapped around Sansa's and she pulled her out of the room and into the hallway.

The corridor was bursting to the brim with giggling girls rushing to get out of the building. Some looked nervous and some looked excited. Some looked as though this was the most boring thing of their lives. Sansa envied those who were smiling. She wished she could smile. Instead her lips were twisted into a frown as she held her stomach, begging herself not to be sick on her first day.

The walk to the university was a short one, so Sansa and Margaery took their time, enjoying the last of the heat before the winter. The university was a huge, stone building. Towers twisted in spirals stretching into the blue canvas that was the sky. The green grass was packed with hundreds of students and teachers walking into the tall iron gates. As they reached the cold bars, a black car raced past them, beeping its horn as it went. It turned sharply, as though it were about to drive head first into the main building, but stopped just in time. A small man in his thirties hopped out of it. He had short dark hair, with silver shining above his ears. He was dressed casually for a teacher, all in grey: a colour which suited him well, Sansa noted. As though he could feel her watching he turned and smiled at her, before walking into the great glass doors of the building. Margaery tugged on Sansa's sleeve, motioning for her to enter a smaller door on the main building's side.

The day was blur to Sansa. New classes, new teachers, new classmates, new friends, new everything. By lunchtime Sansa's head was spinning. She didn't know where the canteen was and didn't have to courage to ask anybody. Her blue eyes were glued to the map in front of her as she turned it this way and that. She was stopped by someone standing it her path. She bumped into the person full force, causing her to drop all of the books from her hands. She fell to the stone floor, grabbing at the books blindly. She could feel her cheeks burning as a pair of hands reached forwards and helped her gather her belongings.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going." She stammered, blowing her hair from her face.

"It's fine." He laughed. She looked up and saw that it was the professor from this morning: the one with dark hair. The attractive one, she thought darkly. His grey-green eyes lifted and met the blue. "Cat?" He gasped, his eyebrows merging. "Sorry. You just look like someone that I used to know."

Sansa thought for a moment and then asked "Was her name Catelyn? Catelyn Stark?" He smiled at her then, well his lips did, his eyes stayed still and locked on her. 

"She was Catelyn Tully when I knew her. You must be her daughter..."

"Sansa."

"Ah, Sansa." He said, tasting the word on his tongue. "I'm Mr Baelish, although most students just call me Baelish. I used to go to school with your mother many, many years ago." He joked, handing the map back to her. "Are you looking for the canteen by any chance?" Sansa nodded, blushing. "Well as it happens I'm going there myself, so I'll show you where it is." They walked side by side through the ancient halls. Sansa watched the ceiling, the way the light bounced off of the curved roof and back through the grey pillars holding it up. After a moment of awkward silence, Baelish began to speak. "Has anyone ever told you that you look like your mother?"

"Oh, yes." She smiled. "But I still fail to see it."

"Well trust me, you do. I went to university with your mother and you look just like she did at your age." He stopped and lifted a hand to Sansa's face, swiping away a stray piece of hair with a simple flick of his hand. "Here you are: the canteen." He smiled and turned, walking to the teacher's corner. The hall was huge. Everywhere else was ancient and made of stone, but this was like an entirely different place. The floor was laminated, the walls were white, there were hundreds of tables littered across the hall. The smell of hot food drifted through the air, teasing Sansa's nostrils. She hadn't realised how hungry she was until the smell of chips hit her. She searched the room desperately until she found Margaery. She threw herself into the chair beside her. 

"Why were you talking to that creep?" Margaery demanded, glaring at Baelish from across the room.

"He's not a creep!" Sansa replied, voice sharper than she had intended.

"Why so defensive, sweetie?" Margaery laughed, playfully hitting Sansa on the arm. "Well tough luck, he is a total creep. He had a nickname, you know? Littlefinger. No one knows why they call him that, but there's a popular theory." She pointed at the place between her legs, laughing. 

"Ew. No, he's just an old friend of my Mum. He was showing me where the canteen was, because I was lost." Margaery shook her head, a sweet laugh escaping her lips.

"Whatever. So, what teacher's did you get stuck with?"

"So far I've had Mordane and Luwin. I'll meet the other two tomorrow." Sansa replied. Both teachers were old and strict, but they were also helpful. It could be worse, she thought. They could have been horrible like some of the teachers she'd had at high school. Once Renly and Loras joined them they gossiped about unimportant things and Sansa found herself tuning out of the conversation. She couldn't wait to go to bed.

Her lessons were harder than she thought they'd be. By the time she got back to her room, she was exhausted. She collapsed onto her bed, fighting to keep her eyes open. Everyone came knocking at her door after a while, begging her to go drinking with them, but she was too tired. She made up some lame excuse and once they had left, called her mum.

"Hey Mum, yes it was fine. Yes I made some friends. No it wasn't too hard. Of course I miss you all." After five minutes of answering stupid questions, Sansa changed the subject. "I bumped into a teacher today and he said that he used to be friends with you. His name's Baelish." Sansa heard her mother's sharp intake of breath.

"Petyr." She whispered. "I didn't know that he was a teacher now. Sansa, do you remember the story I told you? The one about the man who fought with your uncle Brandon, because he had a crush on me? Yes?"

"Yeah... Brandon was drunk, smashed a glass bottle and stabbed him? Of course I remember!" Sansa laughed. "Why?"

"Well the other man was Petyr."

"Oh."

"Exactly. Sansa if this is too weird its not too late to change schools-"

"Don't be silly, Mum. It's fine, anyway he's not my teacher. Sorry Mum, but I'm really tired. Give my love to Dad and everyone else." She hung up and rolled into her bed, hugging her sheets. She didn't know how to feel about what her mother had just said. Maybe Baelish was a creep, just like Margaery had said. She grabbed her phone and called Margaery, telling her everything.

"Oh. My. God. So he must have, like, a scar or something." Margaery gasped. "You should've asked your Mum why he's called Littlefinger!"

"No. Right, time for bed." Sansa fell asleep moments later, she was running again. This time she could see the darkness surrounding her, she didn't seem to scream quite as loud though.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is late for class and has her first ever detention

Sansa walked into the class without a care. She moved to the middle of the lecture hall benches and sat silently: none of her friends were in this class. She looked around, searching for anyone to talk to, but being as shy as she was she didn't have the courage to introduce herself. On the whiteboard at the front of the class was scrawled "Psychology" in curly handwriting, as though people would forget what class they were being taught. Sansa had chosen psychology becase she had thought it looked interesting, but all of the people walking in seemed way too smart and she began to feel as though she didn't belong there. The class was full within minutes, the sounds of laughter and speech so loud in her ears, it was giving her a headache. The bell still hadn't gone and Sansa began to wonder whether she had time to run to the toilet. She dropped her books onto her chair and jogged down the steps with her usual grace. She ran straight through the door and crashed into someone. A small gasp escaped her mouth from the shock as she jumped backwards. The blood was rushing to her cheeks, and she hated herself for it.

"Honestly miss Stark, you need to start looking where you're going." His husky voice mocked. "In a hurry to leave my class already? The lesson hasn't even started." 'No, not you' Sansa thought bitterly. 'Anyone but you.' She smiled and tried to think of something clever to say, but words failed her.

"Oh, no- I... I just, er- Nevermind." She sighed and turned back to her seat, dreading the lesson. This wasn't meant to happen, he wasn't meant to be her teacher. He must hate her, after all her mother hadn't returned his feelings and her uncle had tried to kill him. She tried to concentrate on the words rushing out of his mouth, but all she could do was watch his tight fitting green shirt all lesson, wondering what the scar on his chest looked like. 

At the end of the lesson Sansa hid herself in the middle of the crowd, eager to get to the toilet. She was practically wetting herself. Sansa ran from the toilets to her classroom faster than she had ever moved in her life, but she was still late. She burst in through the door to find the class full, except for one seat at the top of the stairs. Everyone's eyes followed her as she moved towards it. Her teacher was a plump, bald man who wore expensive clothes and had his fat fingers covered in grand rings. His voice was sharp, and filled with annoyance as he called out to her. "Late. Stay behind at the end for your detention slip." Sansa bit down her lip, she had never had a detention before and couldn't believe she had been given one on her second day. 

The lesson dragged: every second feeling like an hour. When it was finally over she walked over, head hung low, to his desk and plucked the pink slip from his hand. The overpowering smell of lavender engulfed her like a blanket, causing her to choke. She left the room quickly, avoiding everyone's eyes as they glared at her.

**

"A detention already?!" Margaery clucked her tongue, reading the slip with careful eyes. Loras informed Sansa that Varys was famous for giving detentions, and told her to not worry about it. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, smiling. However his attentions turned to Renly when he dropped into his seat. Loras' small hand fit perfectly into Renly's large one, and they ate their lunch like that, as though they only ever used one hand to eat. Envy tugged at Sansa, she wished that she had someone like that. "You should have come out with us last night, Sansa." Margaery sang. "Jeyne got drunk and kissed some random guy called Bedric."

"Shut. Up." Jeyne moaned, her voice croaky and full of pain. Her face was pale and half covered by thick sunglasses. Her hands were lost in her hair, clutching to her head. Sansa couldn't help but feel sorry for her. "Anyway you were drunk and kissing Joffrey."

"That's different: he's my boyfriend." Margaery smirked. Sansa cringed at the word 'boyfriend.' She hated Joffrey with a fierce passion. He'd been her boyfriend first, before he started hitting her. Sansa had broken up with him and Margaery had gotten with him a few days later. 'It's good for business,' Margaery had told her, and Sansa decided not to press the matter any further.

Joffrey's sour face suddenly appeared behind Margaery. He glared at Sansa and pulled Margaery closer to him, as though she would get jealous. "I'd better go: don't want to be late and get another detention." She laughed, walking away while blowing air kisses to everyone except Joffrey.

**

At the end of the day Sansa walked gingerly to the detention room. She walked in to find it empty, apart from the shadow of the teacher rummaging through the cupboards at the back of the room. Sansa couldn't see who it was and they hadn't heard her enter, so she forced a small cough. The figure hopped out from behind the closet, his grey-green eyes resting on her. Baelish. He was smirking for some reason. She moved towards him, handing him the pick slip.

"Miss Stark, I am surprised." He laughed, before he remembered that this was a detention room and his expression turned blank. "You can sit there," he gestured at the chair beside the cupboard. "Detention is simple. No talking. No phones. No music. No homework, you can do that in your own time. You sit there in silence for the next hour." He gave her a small smile and she nodded, sliding into the seat. 

The more she stared at the clock she more she was certain it was slowing. Instead she turned her attention to the great wooden desk before her and began to trace random patterns on it with her slim finger. Her blue eyes followed it, giving it her full attention as though it were the most fascinating thing in the world. It had a strange, calming effect on her, imagining the patterns growing on the wood.

"Wow, that desk must be so interesting." His sly voice called out. He pulled up a chair across from her and swung his leg over it, sitting on it so that his front was resting on the chair's back. He grinned at her. "You're more like your mother than you realise: she always used to be in detention. Always getting into trouble, she was." For once his smile was genuine as his eyes were blank, he was clearly reflecting on his days with her. "That doesn't sound like my mother." "Well I suppose she's changed since the last time I saw her." His lips twisted downwards. "Why? When was the last time you saw her?" Sansa mumbled, he mustn't her seen her in years, because the woman he was describing sounded like an entirely different person from the woman who raised her. Petyr's brows merged, and his eyes hardened. "I think you know the answer to that." He hissed. Sansa tried to look as innocent as possible, giving him a clueless look. "Fine. It was the day your uncle gave me this scar." His finger traced a line down his front, but his eyes never once left Sansa. He was watching to see how she'd react and he seemed positively triumphant when she blushed and avoided his gaze. "But that was years ago and I always find it best to leave the past where it belongs." Sansa got the courage to look at him again, but he wasn't looking at her face anymore. His eyes swept over her, burning into her. She squirmed under his gaze, it unsettled her and made her feel as though he could see everything. He could see her thoughts and feelings. He could see beneath her clothes. She shook the thought of her head quickly. She tried to think of something to say, she wanted to break the silence so badly. "Why do they call you Littlefinger?" Sansa blurted out. Her hands clamped over her mouth, trying to stop the words that had already tumbled out. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean- Forget I said anything." "I suppose your mother must have mentioned that. The place where I was born was nicknamed the Fingers, because of hills that stretch out like a hand. When I was little I was a very small boy, and well you uncle Edmure thought it would be funny to call me LittleFinger. As you see its an exceedingly clever nickname." The look on his face suggested it was anything but. "Some students find it funny to call me that sometimes, but once they have they regret it. Okay?" His voice was sweet and charming, but the words scared her slightly. She nodded. "Forty minutes left. I'll make you a deal. If you clean that cupboard for the next ten minutes, I'll let you go thirty minutes early." Sansa dived at the cupboard and hastily cleared the split stationary, collected the dusty books and put them in a better order. She could feel his eyes watching her and she turned to check. He was leaning against the wall, head tilted upwards, eyes closed with a smile on his lips. She watched him for a moment. The light was shining on his face, hightlighting his cheekbones. He seemed strangely attractive in this light. He seemed more human. "I don't hear cleaning." He whispered, eyes still closed. "Done," she breathed, leaving the room. Margaery was waiting outside for her. They walked back to their dorm together as Sansa relayed her day to Margaery. "I can't believe that you actually asked him!" Margaery laughed. "That was a let down though. Stupid nickname." ** That night Sansa had the same nightmare that she always did. She was running, running faster than she could ever run in real life, but it still wasn't enough. She silently urged her legs to move faster, before the darkness swallowed her whole. The only sound she made was her heavy breathing, she was silent apart from that. No more screaming.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not much Petyr/Sansa this chapter, sorry. Will try and put the next chapter up soon, in the mean time comments are welcome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments so far by the way guys :) (any questions go to my tumblr: the-sansa-stark.tumblr.com)

      "I'm sorry, Miss Stark. I truly am." The policeman's words were echoes to Sansa. She wasn't listening to what he was saying, She couldn't listen. She refused to believe him. Everything began to blur. The edges of her sight faded and were poisoned by black. She reached out desperately, trying to grab on to something. Anything. The cold wood of the door frame appeared beneath her pale skin. She was facing the ground now. She needed air. She couldn't breathe. She gasped and begged for her lungs to stop aching, but they wouldn't. Her stomach churned. She fell on all four and threw up violently. Tears were streaming down her pale cheeks. Two hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her up, but she couldn't feel them. No, she thought. They're wrong. The policeman's words echoed in her ears and she screamed, trying to block them out. Liar. She wanted him to be lying. She wanted this all to be a terrible joke, but she knew it wasn't. Two emerald pools were staring at her, and she pushed them away. She needed to be alone. After a moment the policeman left her, his apologises lingering behind him. The floor flew up to meet Sansa's falling body and his voice roared out over the black.  _I'm sorry, Miss Stark. Your father is dead._

_***_

     Margaery, Jeyne, Renly, Loras and more all came to her dormitory at different times, begging her to let them in, but she wouldn't. Her mother was away with her brother Robb, making funeral arrangements. Jon was fighting in the war, he'd been in the army for a year now. Arya was in her boarding school, being sent home soon. Bran and Rickon were with family. Sansa had no one. She was truly alone. She locked herself in her room for the next four days. She cried and prayed and begged for God to bring back her father. She begged for revenge. She begged for this all to be over. None of her prayers were answered.

 

***

 

      Sansa went to the funeral. Everyone did. There wasn't a person alive who hadn't met her father, or at least heard of him. Everyone offered their condolensces, but what good were they? They didn't bring her father back. She was meant to return to university tomorrow, she'd already been off for over two weeks. But she couldn't bear the thought of everyone's eyes on her. Everyone thinking of her dead father. Sansa left the funeral early. She didn't speak to anyone, neither did her family. None of her family had even spoken to each other. They all left to return to their lives. It was better that way. They could pretend it wasn't real.

 

***

 

     Sansa didn't go to school the next day. She had woken up and put on her clothes. She had grabbed her bag and walked to the door. She had opened her door, to be met by the shrill laughter of girls in the hallway. She had gone back to bed. She wasn't ready to go back. She wouldn't be able to concentrate. All she could think of was her dead Father. The man who had brought her up. The man who had given her everything. The man who had called her his little princess. No, she couldn't go to school. Everyone still had their father's. They could call them up whenever they wanted to. Sansa couldn't even say goodbye to hers.

 

     She was woken up by the sound of knocking on her door. Without thinking she yelled "Go away." The knocking didn't stop. "GO AWAY!" She screamed at the top of her lungs. Silence. She closed her eyes again. They were so sore. She still hadn't stopped crying and as a result her blue eyes had turned red and puffy. She looked longingly around the room and stared at the photo of her father and her. She picked it up and held it to her chest. 

 

     Margaery was at her door the second Sansa sent the text. She wrapped her arms aroud her and held Sansa until the crying stopped. "Sansa, I am  _so_ sorry about your Dad. They noticed you weren't in any classes today. A few of the professors spoke to me and asked me to get you to come to class tomorrow." She whispered in Sansa's ear as she hugged her. Sansa nodded.

 

     They sat on the bed for hours talking about memories of Ned Stark. Before Margaery left she helped Sansa prepare her things for the next day. Sansa fell asleep as soon as her door clicked shut. She was in the darkness again. She was running. Her clothes clung to her, covered in sticky red blood. She screamed, but no noise came out. She cried out for help. She cried out for her father. She was running from the words she didn't want to hear.  _He's dead._


	4. Chapter 4

      It had been four weeks since her father's funeral. Her first day back was the worst: everyone either stared at her or simply avoided her. She hated it. She wasn't listening in classes, she was too wrapped up in guilt and grief. She moved the the back in every class (no one dared to tell her that she had taken their seat) and kept her head down. After the first few days, everyone returned to normal. People talked to Sansa as though nothing had happened. She sat at lunch and listened to her friend's gossip as though it was the most important thing. She had to be strong.

      On the third week her psychology class had been given a test: it should have been simple. Baelish had sat at the front on his phone while the test took place. Sansa tried to read the questions, but all she could see was little black markings on paper. She attempted some answers, but didn't hold much hope. When she had handed the paper in she had avoided Baelish's hard gaze. 

      It was the fourth week after her father's funeral when she got the paper back. Baelish wouldn't even look at her when he handed her it, but she could see the disappointment in his eyes. She couldn't bear to see how bad she'd done, so had simply lay down her head and closed her eyes until the class was over. When the bell finally sang out it high pitched song, Sansa lazily walked down the stairs of the hall and headed to the door. "Miss Stark," a husky voice called out. "May I have a word?" Sansa reluctantly turned back and walked to him.

      Once everyone had left he sat himself on his desk and smiled sadly at her. "I know it must be hard for you, Sansa: losing your father at such a young age. But you can't let your work suffer for it. The rest of your life depends on how you do here." Sansa nodded, wanting to just leave. How could he understand how she felt? "If you need any extra help, then I-"

      "I'm not stupid." She snapped and to her amazement, Baelish laughter.

      "I  _know_   you're not stupid, you're an incredibly smart young girl." His smile unsettled Sansa a little, there was something hidden away in it. "You're upset, I know. I'm just saying that if you ever need to, you can come to my office and we can go over anything."

      "No," she hissed, then quickly added "Thank you." She went to turn, but Baelish grabbed her hand, stopping her. He then cupped it in both of his and stood up.  Even though he was short, he was still an inch or two taller than Sansa, so she had to tilt her head slightly to keep eye contact. "I was once great friends with your mother, I'm here for her daughter too." He was standing too close for Sansa's comfort. As though he sensed this, he released her hand and walked away. "Call me if you need anything." Sansa looked in her hand and saw a slip of green paper with his number written neatly across it. Her blue eyes narrowed at the hand. _What is he doing?_  She turned quickly and left, shoving the paper into her bag.

 

***

      Sansa followed her daily routine and soon found herself in the library. It was a huge room with a curved ceiling. Every inch of the bright white walls were covered in books: begging for someone to take them. Sansa eyed the corner of the room. The romance section had always been her favourite. She wondered over. On the middle of the wall, hidden at the back lay a tattered old book with yellowing pages. Sansa carefully picked it up, scared that it would break at any moment. She turned it over and over in her hands.  _Pride and Prejudice._ She flipped open the front cover and saw name upon name in the same messy black handwriting cover it. At the end read SANSA STARK well over ten times. The librarian had often told her to just buy her own copy, but it wasn't the same. She gently placed the book back and sighed.  _Oh, Mr Darcy._

Across the room sat a familiar group of faces. Renly and Loras were holding hands, frowing. Jeyne was sitting beside them, forcing a smile on to her face. She began to walk over when Margaery stood up and meet her halfway. "Hey," Sansa smiled. Margaery blushed and avoided her gaze. Suddenly Joffrey was beside her, clutching her with his think arm. "Tell her," he hissed in her ear. Margaery went to protest, but Joffrey grabbed her hand and shoved it in Sansa's face. "We're getting married." He bragged. Margaery smiled sadly at Sansa. 

      Her stomach twitsed into knots, growing tighter and tighter every second. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck. She needed air. "Congrats," she breathed before abruptly turning and running outside. The cool air greeted her like a blanket, soothing her burning skin. She bent over the grass and emptied her stomach. What was happening? Joffrey was a... monster. And Margaery wanted to marry? Spend the rest of her life with him? Have his children? She grabbed for the nearest tree, trying to steady herself.

      She searched wildly for her car, before remembering it was with the mechanic. Tears rolling down her face still, she walked to the nearest car. She threw her bag on the bonnet and buried her hand, looking for her phone. Her tear filled eyes made it impossible to see the contents of her bag. She soon gave up and sat on the edge of the car, throwing her head into her hands.

      "You're sitting on my car," a familiar voice called out behind her. She ignored him, wiping furiously at her cheeks. "You're crying." He pointed out, voice thick with concern. His lightly placed his hand on her arm, waiting for her reaction, when she didn't do anything he moved a little closer. "Is it because of your-"

      "NO." She snapped. She wasn't in the mood for Baelish's games.

      "What's wrong then?" He asked, sitting beside her on the bonnet. Sansa thought for a moment, she needed to tell someone. Needed to talk to someone.

      "Margaery and Joffrey are engaged."

      "Jealous?" He joked. Sansa threw his a dirty look, wiping the smile from his face. "So what's so bad about them being together?"

      "He's horrible." She mumbled. Petyr's brows raised in silent question. "I used to go out with him, before..." She trailed off. Petyr rested his hand on her leg, looking into her eyes. He nodded at her, patiently waiting. "You won't tell anyone?" She whispered, smiling slightly as he seriously shook his head. "One night I went around to his house. He told me he was having a party and at the end of the night he was pretty drunk. He told me I could sleep over and well... the plan was for me to sleep on the couch. Anyway he was pretty bad at this point and he wanted me to, er..." She squirmed, feeling awkward. Petyr sensed this and moved away slightly, waiting for her to continue. "To, you know, sleep with him. I said no. He, er, well... He beat me up and tried to do it anyway. I ran out and told him it was over." Sansa sighed. It felt good to have finally told someone that: someone apart from Margaery.

      Petyr's eyes were cold and hard as Sansa watched him. "You were very brave telling me that, Sansa." He smiled at her then. "Don't you worry about Margaery. She's tough. I know her family quite well and they would never let something bad happen to one of there own." The sharp singing of the bell echoed from the building. "Time for your next class." He turned and jumped into his car, speeding away.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa finds Margaery upset the day after her engagement

      The next day Sansa woke up to no text from Margaery, who always walked to the building with her. She went alone and forced herself to concentrate on what her professor was actually saying: she didn’t want anyone else noticing she hadn’t been doing as well as usual.

      Sansa anxiously checked her phone over and over, but there was still no word from Margaery. She was worried whether Margaery was angry with her over the engagement, trying to remember her face when Sansa had ran from the library. When the lecture was finally over she raced to the library, where she knew everyone would be.

      Loras had his arm wrapped protectively around Margaery, while Renly and Jeyne just stared at her. Renly flashed a bright smile to Sansa when he saw her.  _You okay?_  He mouthed. She gave a quick nod, and raised an eyebrow at Margaery. He shook his head quickly.

      Sansa dropped down in the seat between Margaery and Jeyne, her hand reaching out for the other girl’s. Margaery’s red, puffy eyes searched wildly before landing on Sansa. A sad smile laced her lips as she threw herself to Sansa, squeezing the girl as she buried her head in her shoulder. Sansa’s hand found Margaery’s soft hair and she stroked it as though Margaery was just a child.

      “What’s wrong?" Sansa asked, her stomach twisting with fear. Margaery cried out and held Sansa closer. “It’s Joffrey!" She mumbled. For a moment Sansa panicked. Had he hurt her? Had he done something to her? Anger coursed through her as she thought of Joffrey. Maybe he broke off the engagement, a hopeful voice whispered from the back of her mind.

      “What about Joffrey?" Sansa asked, silently praying for them to have broken up. Margaery cleared her throat and gulped. “He w-was walking h-home last night…" She stuttered. “And t-then he w-was mugged! He called me this m-morning and told me he was in hospital. He said it was an ambush. There were three of them: knew he was coming." Margaery moved to look at Sansa’s face. “He had two broken ribs and a sprained ankle. And a black eye." Margaery’s sobbed again and Loras swooped over, bringing Margaery into his chest, whispering to her. He gave a small smile to Sansa, then quickly changed his expression to one of concern.

      Sansa had to contain a smile herself. It was the best news she had had in a while. She looked sadly at Margaery before turning her gaze to Renly and Jeyne. Renly was biting his lower lip in an attempt to look upset by the news, but Jeyne looked horrified. Renly winked at Sansa: it was no secret they both hated Joffrey. 

      Her gaze drifted from the two to the space behind them. It was the romance section that called out for her attention. She looked at it longingly, the perfect end to the day would be if she grabbed her favourite book, sat in bed with a cup of tea and read till she slept.

      She stared at the place where her favourite book lay hidden, but decided it would be rude if she left while Margaery was so upset. A figure stood in her view of the book, making her frown. He moved around the books searching blindly. Suddenly he pulled out a tattered book and flickered through the pages. Baelish was holding her favourite book. He was smiling.  _Why did she care?_  His smile was unsettling. It was knowing. It was devious. It was sly. 

      She narrowed her eyes, when he quickly turned, as though feeling her gaze and nodded his head at her. She watched him with curiousity. His eyes flickered to Margaery and his smile grew brighter before he turned and left, taking the book with him.

       Her stomach dropped. Her head spun a little. What she was thinking couldn’t possibly be true. Could it? She watched Baelish’s back until he was gone. She shook the thoughts from her head and turned her attention to Margaery, trying miserably to cheer up her friend.

***

      Joffrey was out of hospital by the weekend. To celebrate this  _great_ news, Margaery decided to throw a party at her house on the Friday night. To say Sansa was reluctant to go to this party was an understatement. Joffrey would be there, moaning about the attack. Sansa understood it was serious, but shut up already.

      She stared at her reflection in her mirror. She had chosen a power blue dress which hugged her slim figure. Her auburn hair was tidied into a loose side bun. She applied another layer of red lipstick and strolled to the taxi waiting for her.

      Hundreds of bodies were packed tightly into Margaery’s grand home. Music blasted out, filling the air and forcing the ground to shake beneath them. Every inch of the kitchen surface was crammed with bottles. Sansa grabbed one, gulping it down in one to prepare for the night ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments always welcome and wanted


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa gets drunk at Margaery and Joffrey's engagement party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt bad about my last chapter being short, so I'm posting my next chapter the NEXT day :)

      Sansa found herself throwing back bottle after bottle. At first the liquids burnt the back of the throat. After a few bottles, however, she couldn’t even taste what she was pouring down her lips. She just enjoyed the warmth that was spreading through her body as she drank.

She had Maragery danced hand in hand to the roaring music. Well, they had, until Joffrey turned up. He smirked at Sansa, obviously delighted when Margaery threw her amrs around him. His face was swollen and black around his eyes, where had obviously been punched, and Sansa had to leave to stop herself from laughing in his face. Margaery didn’t seem to mind: she knew how Sansa felt about Joffrey.

      Instead Sansa wondered around, slipping between the crowds like water through cracks, searching for someone: anyone. Renly and Loras had been too busy dancing in the corner together to even notice her, but she didn’t mind: she was happy for those two. The way their bodies moved together as though they were one was fascinating, and Sansa had to pull herself away to stop herself from staring.

      She moved like a ghost though the party. A few boys grabbed her wrists at first points in the night, begging her to dance with them. She danced with one or two, but when they started to grind up against her, she stormed off in search of others. 

      People stuffed drinks into her hands and she gulped them down greedily. They stopped her thoughts, something she was in desperate need of. She needed to hush that ever constant voice in the back of her mind. Stress seemed to evaporate into the air every time she took another sip.

      However there were consequences to the feelings the drinks brought. By midnight she was stumbling instead of walking. She was light-headed and the world seemed to spin around her in a blue of flashing lights and moving bodies. She slowly found her way to the staircase and collapsed on to it, clutching to her bag. It was quieter where she was, as the staircase was hidden away from the rest of the party. She could hear the faint song drifting from the other side of the house. She hummed quietly to it, tapping her feet to the beat, her eyes closed tightly. 

      Sansa had been drunk before, but never  _this_  drunk. She was quite sure that she would be sick at any moment, but at the same time felt as though she would live forever. It was a peculiar feeling: one she hated and loved all at the same time. She hated the lack of control that alcohol brought, but a little voice whispered to her, telling her that maybe it was good to not be in control for once. She had been using all of her energy to keep together since her father’s death. Tonight she didn’t need to try, she just  _was_ holding herself together.

      Sansa eyed Margaery holding Joffrey tightly to her side as they walked through the room, smiling at various people. She set Joffrey down on her settee and marched over to Renly and Loras, smacking them until she had their attention. Sansa watched with narrow eyes, trying her hardest to focus her vision, as the scene just swam before her. She couldn’t make out what Margaery was saying, until her lips formed the word  _Sansa._ Margaery looked worried when Renly and Loras shugged, returning to their earlier positions. 

She yelled out to Margaery, but her words were swallowed by the cloud of music waving over the room. Her hand clumsily dived into her bag, searching for her phone. As she pulled it out a slip of paper came tumbling out with it. She snatched at the paper, a grin growing across her face. It took her four attempts until she finally dialled the correct numbers. She laughed at the tired voice that answered the phone.

      “Where are you?" It yelled after Sansa was mumbling on. She looked around the room and slurred “The staircase." After a moment she realised how silly that sounded and tried again. “Margaery’s staircase." She clarified, smiling.

***

      Baelish wondered into the party in a tight fitted shirt and jeans. He searched wildly for Sansa before finding her laying halfway up the staircase. He sighed and sat down beside her. “I didn’t give you my number so that you could call me when you’re drunk." He whispered irritated, but there was a smile playing on his lips.

     "No," she slurred, eyes half closed. “You gave me it incase I needed you." She threw her arms out. “And I kinda need some help getting home." She laughed. His eyes narrowed, but he stood all the same and waited for her to follow. She managed to stand, but her legs gave way the second she did. Baelish caught her and held her up straight, willing her to walk. She couldn’t: her foot turned on its side the second it hit the step beneath her.

      He quickly glanced around the room, a trace of worry in his eyes,  before scooping her up in his arms and carrying her out to his car. Once she was safely buckled up, he drove. She played with the radio until a song she liked began to play. She belted out the lyrics at the top of her lungs, ignoring Baelish’s smirk. Her throat was aching, but she felt alive and never wanted to stop singing.

      When the song was finished, an awkward silence filled the air. Baelish seemed uncomfortable by this, so tried to make conversation. “So what was the party for?" He asked. Sansa exhaled. “Joffrey got out of hospital today." She threw her arms up in mock celebration. “Yay." She exhaled, voice full of hate. Baelish actually laughed: it was quite a sweet sound if Sansa was honest.

      “What was wrong with him?" He mumbled, his face suddenly hard. Sansa remembered seeing him in the library, her suspicious thoughts returning. “Mugged. Two broken ribs. Black eye and something about this ankle." She murmured. A sly smile crossed her lips, alcohol gave her courage. “They’re saying it was an ambush. It was planned. I wonder who would do something like that. Everyone seems to like Joffrey. Well, everyone except me and whoever else knows what he’s really like." Baelish nodded in agreement, but his face remained a hard mask.

      “What do you think?" She asked, only to be met by silence. “Baelish?" She yelled, snapping her fingers for his attention, but he still did not reply. “Littlefinger?" She whispered, smiling as his lips turned into a thin white line. 

      “I thought I told you  _not_ to call me that." He snapped. Sansa shrugged. “You wouldn’t answer me." She mumbled, falling back into the seat. “Littlefinger." She laughed.

      “I think you can call me Petyr now," he stated, a smile lacing his lips.

      “No, I think I’m okay with Littlefinger."

      “Sansa." He whispered, his voice serious.

      “Petyr," she mimicked his deep voice, laughing at herself. She pouted and whispered the name again, testing it out. "Petyr. Cool." She flashed her brilliant smile at him. She closed her eyes and snuggled into her seat, twisting till she was on her side, facing him. “Petyr," she murmured again before falling asleep.

***

      When Sansa woke up the next day her head was pounding, her stomach was twisted into a thousand knots and she was sure she was about to vomit. Closed eyed, she reached out for the bottle of water that usually stood on her bedside table. Her hand came in contact with something metal, causing it to wobble and fall with a smash. She darted up to see a black lamp shattered on the floor.

       She didn’t own a black lamp. Her gaze changed to the bed.  _Her_  sheets were white, not the emerald green that was swallowing her. She looked around the room in shock. She didn’t know where she was. Or how she got there.

      “Could you try to  _not_ break my things," a mocking voice called out. Baelish, no: Petyr, stood in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. He was wearing an unironed black t-shirt with the words  _Pimpin’ ain’t easy_  written across the front of it and boxers. “Morning," he nodded before turning away.

      Sansa stared at the empty space of the doorway wide eyed. Memories of the night before came flooding back to her. After a moment she dragged herself out of bed and walked to the kitchen. Petyr handed her a cup of tea and dropped into a seat, reading his paper.

      “Thanks for last night," she mumbled. “And sorry." A smirk grew across his face, but he didn’t look away from his paper. She sipped at her tea, standing awkwardly in the centre of his kitchen. He glanced at her and chuckled, folding away the newspaper.

      “You can sit down, Sansa." He shook his head and gestured at the seat opposite him. She took it willingly, closing her eyes at the bright light shining through the window behind him.

       "Thanks."

      “You look awful."

      “Thanks," she hissed, her voice drenched with sarcasm.

      “How much did you drink last night?" He asked, ignoring her tone.

       "I don’t even know." She admitted, gulping the last of her tea, and moving to the sink to wash it. “How come you brought me here?" She whispered, sure that he had told her he would take her home last night. Petyr twirled in his chair to face her. His grey-green eyes narrowing.

      “Imagine the rumours if a  _male_  professor was seen leaving his  _female_ student’s dormitory in the middle of the night." He laughed again, it was mocking: so different than the one from the night before. Sansa blushed, embarrassed that she had not realised that herself. “Well, thanks again." She mumbled, turning away to hold her cup under the burning water.

      Petyr was suddenly behind her, his body so close to hers, almost touching.  _Almost._ Yet she could still feel the heat radiating from him. He reached out to rinse his cup beside Sansa’s, his other hand resting on her shoulder for balance. “Stop saying thanks." He whispered into her ear, so near that she could feel his warm breath. The minty smell teased her nostrils. She quickly shoved her cup on to the side and darted away from him, much to his amusement.

      “I should go," she said, blushing. Petyr’s back was turned to her as he waved, still laughing. She nodded at him and left, breathless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments welcome and wanted as always :D (like seriously guys it makes my LIFE when you hit comment/kudos :P)


	7. Chapter 7

      Sansa burst into her room, slamming the door shut behind her. A small cough sounded from her bed, and Sansa's head snapped in that direction, did she forget to lock her door  _again_? Margaery was sitting on Sansa's bed, face buried in a book. Her disapproving eyes washed over Sansa, shaking her head.

      "Where were you last night?" She demanded, fighting the urge to smile. Sansa tried her best to look innocent as she replied that she was at the party. "Obviously: I was there. I mean afterwards." She smiled at Sansa with a sly look in her eyes. "Who did you go home with?" She sang, playfully. 

      Sansa's heart stopped. Did Margaery know that she'd gone with Petyr? Did she see him carry Sansa to his car? She could feel her heart hammering against her chest. Excuse after excuse ran through her mind. Margaery laughed. "Don't look so scared, Sansa. I was joking! I got your left last night. You must have been drunk, because it was terrible." She laughed. Sansa sighed with relief, smiling at Margaery.

      "Sorry, I'm just tired." She whispered. It wasn't a complete lie, she  _was_  tired, after all Petyr had woken her early this morning. It was a Saturday: the day wasn't meant to start till one in the afternoon, not seven in the morning! 

       "I can see that," Margaery replied. Somehow she didn't look hungover. Sansa envied her, especially as she felt like she was about to collapse at any moment. "I'll let you get some sleep. Call me later." She quickly kissed Sansa's cheek before skipping out of the door.

      Sansa thought back to what Margaery had said and pulled her phone out, confused. She flicked to her sentbox and saw the text Margaery was talking about.  _Heyyyy Marg, got hutel rom dint wprry xcx_ She looked at the message in shock. She hadn't had time to text Margaery: she had passed out in Petyr's car.  _Petyr._ He must have taken her phone and sent the message. How clever. He made a mental note to thank him later, before remembering the embarrassment that was this morning and wiped the note from her mind.

      She stared longingly at her bed: the crisp white covers, the fluffy throw, the mountain of pillows. She flung herself onto the bed, allowing sleep to wash over her within seconds. When she woke she saw that it was after midday (the proper time to wake up on a Saturday) and forced herself out of bed. It had only been a few hours of sleep more, but she didn't feel like she was dying any more.

      She jumped into the bathroom and checked her appearance in the mirror. A stranger looked back at her. The girl had black streaks running beneath her eyes were the mascara had smudged. The girl's hair was a tatty mess on her neck, more a knot than a bun. She looked terrible: no wonder Margaery had laughed this morning. Her blue eyes widened as the reality of the situation dawned on her. Margaery had seen her like this, that meant so had Petyr. Her cheeks turned a furious shade of red as she thought of Petyr watching her this morning. She had been in such a hurry to leave that she hadn't checked her make up.

      Sansa wiped her face until it turned shades of pink and angrily brushed her hair back into a ponytail. She was looking at herself once again, but the memories of the other girl stuck in her mind. She grimaced and reached for her make up bag, stopping just short of it when she heard a sharp knock at the door.

      She glanced through the peephole, frowning at the person standing on the other side of the door.  _Why_? She cried in her mind. Petyr smiled at her when she edged open the door. "Good to see you fixed-" He waved his finger around her face, laughing. She blushed, avoiding his gaze. As if she wasn't already embarrassed enough. "You left some stuff at mine." Sansa moved aside, allowing him to entry.

      He slipped through the gap, glancing around her room. He smiled at the photographs that lined the walls. His hand hovered over one of her when she was younger. Her hair was tied into pigtails and she was pulling a stupid face at the camera. It was such a stupid picture. He chuckled quietly at the image before turning back to face her. He hopped onto the edge of her desk and held out her handbag. She grabbed it with both hands and clutched it to her chest: she hadn't even realised she'd lost it. 

      "Than-" 

      "Don't." He laughed. She bit her lip and nodded, unsure what to say. Instead she sat herself in the chair beside him, reaching for the clasp on the front of it. "I didn't take anything." He joked, throwing his hands up in mock defence. She didn't lift her gaze from the bag as she laughed. "How do you feel?" He asked, tilting his head to one side.

       Sansa met his gaze before pulling the corner of her lip down. "Terrible," she answered, smiling when he laughed. "Drinking a lot will do that to you, Sansa." His grey-green eyes drifted to the ground. "What do you remember about last night?" She thought for a moment, ensuring she knew everything.

      "I was at Margaery's party. I got  _really_ drunk. I called you up." She winced at that, how embarrassing! "I couldn't walk, so you had to carry me to the car. We talked. I passed out."

      "That's it?"

      "That's it." She confirmed. "Isn't it?" Petyr nodded at her, smiling. There was something strange about the smile. His eyes had softened. He was more relaxed. He looked almost  _relieved_. Retelling the night before had brought new memories back to the surface for Sansa. "Last night I told you about Joffrey, about this attack and how it was set up and you wouldn't answer me." Petyr fidgeted on the desk, jumping off it to take the seat opposite her, never once meeting her gaze. She clucked her tongue impatiently. "Well?"

      "What did you want me to say, Sansa?" He sighed.

      "I don't know." She admitted. "I just- Don't you think its weird that I told you about what Joffrey did t-to me and the next day he was ambushed by three guys. Three guys who apparently mugged him, but only took £30 instead of his  _very_ expensive phone?" Her tone was accusing and seemed to unsettle Petyr.

      "Sometimes I wonder whether you're too clever," he whispered, almost to himself. "Funny how everyone else accepted that he was mugged. These things  _do_  happen, you know." He smirked.

 

      "Did you have something to do with it?" She asked, tired. Petyr finally looked at her, his expression unreadable. It was stuck somewhere between sadness and angry.

      "He shouldn't have gotten away with what he did to you." He shrugged in his chair, his face returning to a blank mask.

      "So you set it up?"

      "Yes, Sansa. Okay? Yes I did. There." He hissed. "Happy now?" Sansa slowly lifted from her chair and to his side. She threw her arms around him. "Thank you." She breathed. "Thank you. Thank you.  _Thank you_." She breathed in his ear. Sansa had only ever told two people about what happened with Joffrey: one was her best friend. What had her best friend done? She got engaged to him. Sansa had told Petyr and the next day he had Joffrey beaten up? "Thank you." She whispered again before moving away, trying desperately to wipe the smile from her lips.

      Petyr's grey green eyes were wide with surprise. He gave a sharp nod and rose from his chair, moving to the door. "Don't mention it?" He said his voice growing higher with each word, full of disbelief and walked out of the room.

      Sansa sat in awe for a moment, wondering how Margaery would feel if she found out what Petyr had done. She laughed at the thought, reaching out for her bag, tipping it upside down and checking that everything was in order. On the top of the pile dropped a book. It was brand new, the cover still shining slightly. It was so familiar: she had seen that picture over a thousand times.  _Pride and Prejudice._ She looked at the book in confusion: she didn't own a copy of the book. She didn't want to buy herself her favourite book: she had always felt that someone else was meant to do it for you. That's how you knew they paid attention. She turned the pages over and over in her hands before flipping to the inside cover. In the centre was a short message scrawled in loopy, black handwriting.  _It's time you had your own copy- Petyr._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments welcome and wanted as always :D 
> 
> By the way, here's some warning for you: the next chapter is going to be VERY short. Okay? But it's meant to be :P


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa's dreams return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHORT, but I promise to upload next chapter soon :D

      She found herself in the darkness once again. Black smoke rose around her, forcing its way down her throat and into her lungs. It stung her eyes and licked at her skin. She expected for it to be hot: to burn through her like flames. It wasn’t. Instead it was colder than anything Sansa had ever felt. Her ivory skin turned to ice, it held her in place.

      She struggled against it, begging her legs to move. Panic was rising through her, fear twisting in her stomach. A voice bellowed out from behind her: the sound monstrous. It grew closer and closer, filling her ears. She screamed out, forcing her arms to move, but nothing happened.

      Behind her, in the midst of the darkness, stood her father. He watched her with disapproving eyes. He called out to Sansa, but she couldn’t hear his words over the terrible shrieking. Beside her father stood her mother. They both reached out to her, but she was stuck. She was a block of ice, unable to budge.  _Run._ They mouthed to her.

      The awful noise was edging closer to her. Her parents were gone: falling. Forever falling away from her. She looked ahead. The darkness lightened a little before her, turning to a dull grey colour. A sharp crack sounded beneath her as the ice began to tear. With all of her strength she moved and it shattered into a thousand pieces, falling to the dark ground around her.

      She sped towards the grey, but it grew smaller and smaller every time she got closer. Soon was it was nothing but two small ovals. She reached out to the grey. But it wasn’t grey. It was a strange grey-green. Her fingertips graze the smoke.  _Silence._ The shrieking stopped. A warmth spread over her skin, bringing her back to life. The smoke left her lungs and she gulped greedily at the air. The darkness left her and instead she was swallowed by a blinding light.

****

      Sansa woke up with a start, the sheets clinging to her. The dream from the night before haunted her thoughts. She pushed it from her mind quickly. There was no way it meant what she thought it did.  _It was just a stupid dream_. She told herself.  _It didn’t mean a thing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I absolutely LOVE writing this AU (and can't believe how many hits its gotten! I was only writing this for me at first and now I can't believe that people are actually reading and liking this!) and was thinking about whether I should write more than ten chapters? I'm not sure, thoughts? Comments and thoughts welcome and wanted as always :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaery and Joffrey have an engagement party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments welcome and wanted as always :D

       Margaery stood flowing dress which rippled in the breeze, as though it were liquid gold. Her dark hair was pinned behind her head in an elegant bun. She looked like an angel with the sun blazing behind her: it’s light bouncing from her headband as though it were a halo. Her arm was linked to Joffrey’s. He _did_ look quite dashing in his black suit and golden tie, even if Sansa hated to admit it. His wormy lips were shaped into a grin as he shook the hands of his guests. They stood beneath an ivory arch, with vines entwining the smooth wood, decorated by red and white roses. Behind them lay the vast garden, filled with guest. Any excuse for a party. It had only been two weeks since her last party, but Margaery insisted on having an engagement party. _You only get married once_.

      Men in suits walked around with trays of champagne, offering them to each and every guest they walked past. Everyone was dressed in expensive, elegant clothing. Small groups of people stood dotted around the garden, chatting away. At one part, there were chairs scattered around, which were filled by the older guests. To one side a string quartet sat on a wooden gazebo, playing out slow, beautiful songs. Before them was an area reserved especially for dancers. If Sansa didn’t know any better she would have thought it were a scene from a film.

      Sansa brushed down her ruby dress one last time and walked towards the happy couple. Margaery’s eyes swept over Sansa, taking in the tight fitting dress which fell just short of her knee. She threw her arms around Sansa, squeezing her tightly. Joffrey didn’t even acknowledge her, but Sansa preferred it that way. _At least he stopped smirking._ She handed them her engagement gift: a box shaped present, wrapped in powder blue papers, tied together by an ivory bow, and walked through to the grand garden. The overpowering smell of flowers filled her nostrils. Along the edges of the jade grass were bushes littered with roses of every colour. They started off white, but gently edged into pink until they were finally deep red. It must have taken hours, even days to make such a beautiful display. 

      Sansa wondered over to the corner where the darkest roses were. She eyed the flowers, wishing that she could take them all with her: she loved flowers. From the corner of her eye, she saw bronze curls and turned to greet Loras. He plucked a rose from the midst of the leaves and handed it to her, carefully placing her fingers where there were no thorns. “You look lovely, Sansa." He breathed. Sometimes Sansa thought that if Loras wasn’t gay, she would have gone out with him instead of Jorrey. The thought made her smile, but she knew that Loras and Renly were perfect for each other. Renly spotted the two and made his way over. He walked with an aire of confidence that Sansa envied, if only she were like that.

      “You don’t mind if I steal him away, do you?" He whispered, taking Loras’ arm in his. Sansa shook her head, watching them as they walked over to the area that had been cleared for dancing. Renly spun Loras around, before bringing him closer to him. They gazed at each other, full of love as they swayed along to the song filling the air.

      “Lovely flowers, aren’t they?" A husky voice mumbled behind her. She spun to see Petyr holding a glass of champagne out to her. He was wearing a dark grey suit, looking extremely smart compared to his usual t-shirt and trousers. His cuffs were shaped into silver mockingbirds, with black stones placed in the eyes. As Sansa reached out for the glass, he snatched it backwards, grinning. “Maybe it’s not such a good idea for you to drink, especially after last time.” Sansa blushed at the memory: it was the first time she’d seen Petyr since the day after Margaery’s party.

      “Don’t remind me,” she laughed. As she stared into his grey-green eyes, her dream came back to her and she found herself blushing. A new song began around them and couples drew towards the dance area, moving along to the slow song. Petyr took his and Sansa’s glasses, setting them to one side. He held his hand out and gave a small bow. “Would you like to dance, Sansa?" He asked, a grin on his lips, yet he wasn’t mocking. Sansa gingerly placed her hand in his and he led her towards the other couples.

      He stopped abruptly, placing his hand on her lower back, pulling her into him. She moved her hands to his shoulders as they swayed gently, side to side. He watched her with a small smirk on his face. “Talking of that night, I haven’t had a chance to thank you for the book, Petyr." She beamed, remembering how she hadn’t been able to put it down since she found it. “How did you know?"

      “Simple. I saw your name scribbled into the library one about a thousand times, and guessed it was your favourite. It’s better to have one of your own." He replied, still dancing.

       “Well it was perfect.”

       “And so is that,” he smiled, wiping a stray hair from her face, his fingers grazing her cheekbone as he did so. Sansa looked at him with a confused expression.

      “So is what?”

      “Your smile,” he whispered. His face returned into a perfect mask again once he’d spoken.  “So, why do you like the book so much?" Sansa was still blushing at his words, so it took her a second to comprehend his words. All she could think of was the grey-green in the darkness. The light. The freedom. That was what she saw in his eyes now, that's all she'd ever be able to see now.

       "I guess I love the story. The way she hated him at the beginning: mistook him for someone else. Then she slowly got to know him and fell in love. It’s sweet." She glanced at the floor, embarrassed. “No, it’s not actually. It’s stupid." She laughed. Petyr’s hand cupped her chin and he turned her face to his, so close she could feel his minty breath on her pale face. 

      His eyes were serious and his smile had disappeared. “No. It’s not." He breathed. Sansa blushed and gave him a small smile. His fingers moved from her cheek, instead tracing her cheekbone, before resting on her cheek. “You look beautiful, Sansa." He whispered so only she could hear. His thumb brushed her lips and he leant forward. Their lips melted together and everything seemed to turn to darkness around them. Sansa’s hands lifted to his neck, pulling him in closer. The hand on her back pushed in deeper as his other hand found her auburn hair, tugging on it gently. This was it, she was being freed from the ice all over again, she felt alive again. He broke away, a grin lighting up his face.

      “Do you want to get out of here?" He breathed eagerly into her ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I think I might leave this at 10 chapters, better to leave it while people still like it than dragging it out :) If I get any ideas I'll return to it, but for now, there's only one chapter left guys :'(


	10. Chapter 10

       "G-go?" She stuttered. This was exactly what she wanted, yes of course it was, but now, now that it was actually happening? She glanced down at where their hands were joined at their side. Petyr was smiling at her, looking at her as though she were the only person at this party, speaking of a party... Silence had enveloped them, wide eyes staring at the couple in the centre of the crowd, a wide space around them. Margaery was walking towards them, her eyes wide and questioning. Petyr was talking to her now, his mouth was moving, but Sansa couldn't hear what he was saying.  _Gods,_ her parents were here, they were staring at her too. They would want to talk, Sansa wasn't in the mood for talking.

      "...Sansa, are you okay?" Petyr practically yelled down her ear. She slowly turned to him, nodding her head. "I'm sorry, I thought you-"

      "Let's go." She breathed, his grey-green eyes narrowed, searching her face for some kind of reassurance before turning on his heel, pulling her through the couples towards the flowered archway. Sansa ignored the calls of her name behind her, it was finally happening, no one else mattered. One inside his car Petyr almost leapt on top of her, his lips smashing into hers as she hands delved into his greying hair, pulling him even closer to her. "Wait, Sansa." He dropped back into his seat, hand brushing over his beard in thought. "Christ, at least wait until we get back to my place." Sansa sighed, fidgeting in her seat as the car propelled into the road, Petyr driving like a mad man.

      Once inside the door, Sansa was thrown against the wall, body covered by Petyr's and his lips covered hers once more. They made their way through the house and up the staircase, leaving a trial of clothes in their wake until they finally found themselves at the doorway of his bedroom, both left in nothing but their underwear. Petyr pushed her backwards until her thighs hit his bedframe, causing her to fall onto the bed in a heap of red silk and fiey locks. "Petyr!" She laughed, but he simply stood before her, his eyes sweeping over her body, taking her all in. His hands reached out, tracing her sides, his face lighting up like a child with a new toy, the edge of worry that it could be soon taken from him. The cool air hit Sansa's breasts as her bra went flying through the air, soon warmed by Petyr's tongue, sliding across her nipple. She arched her back, urging him to pay attention to her other breast. She couldn't believe how good this felt: boys were clumsy, their hands too rough when seeing her chest for the first time. Petyr's kisses moved to her stomach, along her hip bone to the hem of her underwear. His fingers hooked at them, slowly dragging the smooth material down her milky legs, flicking them to the ground. He eyed her with wonder and awe, his lips growing into that devilish grin. He bestowed kisses along her netherlips, smiling into each one every time a moan left Sansa's lips. His tongue soon found her clit, drawing the most delicous sounds from her lips and just when she was so close, he pulled away, denying her the release she so craved. In his mind he needed for her to know who was in control her. 

       He pressed his body against hers, allowing Sansa to taste herself on his lips. As his boxers departed from his legs, Sansa began to release the gravity of the situation, slowly moving away from him: he wouldn't want her if he knew. He'd think he a child. Petyr stilled when he felt Sansa leave his presence, his eyes flashing to the edge of the bed where she was perched silently. "Are you okay, Sansa? You don't have to do anything you don't want to." Sansa laughed at his words. Gods, of course she _wanted_ to. 

      "I've never done this before."

       "And you think I have!" He laughed, turning away from her. "No, I mean I haven't done  _this_ before." She repeated, looking at him with wide eyes. Petyr slowly turned towards her, brows raised.

      "You're a virgin?" He asked. Sansa blushed as she nodded, this had to be the most embarrassing moment of her life. "Oh, Sansa." He was soon beside her, nipping at her neck, a wicked smile on her lips. "You're perfect." 

      "You're not mad?" She asked, resulting in Petyr shaking his head, his smile growing even more wicked. She manoveured herself so that she was straddling his hips, her lips crushing against his as his back fell to the bed once again. His hands roamed her body before gripping her buttocks. "Since this is your first time, maybe I should go on top." He breathed, turning Sansa to her back, pinning her hands beside her head. "Perfect." He breathed once more before locking his lips on her neck. His hand dropped to his cock, positioning it at her entrance. "Sure?" When Sansa nodded, he pushed his hips forwards, his head entering her. He waited for a moment, allowing her to adjust to size before pushing himself in deeper and deeper unto he was fully inside her. Sansa's cries were quiet as she bit down on her lip, she knew it would hurt, but Gods! His hips began to thrust forwards slowly, drawing out sweet moans from  Sansa's lips. Her thighs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper inside her.

      "You're perfect," he groaned, his lips travelling along her jaw, ocassionally biting her skin between kisses. "You're mine." Sansa gapsed at his words, they sounded so right, so true. Had she not spent every night dreaming of him? Had she not thought of his kisses over and over? Had she not given herself to him? She was his in every sense of the word and he knew it, knew it so well. "Yours," she agreed, smiling at the deep groan in his chest. Petyr's grip tightened on her wrists as his hips gained speed, thrusting into Sansa with such a force that Sansa was almost shouting out his name instead of moaning it. "Please," she begged, heels diging into Petyr's back more. One hand dropped between them, rubbing along her clit in time with his hips. Sansa threw her head back, eyes closed as she came, but Petyr's hand left her clit to pull her face to his, watching her expression as she found her climax. It was too much for him when she moaned out his name once again, he dropped on to her, spent. His breaths were shallow sounds in her ear as he moved beside her, his arm drapped across her. 

      They lay there for what seemed hours, hands entwined, legs crossed, bodies moulded together. Once the sun began to set, Petyr made him way to the bathroom, calling Sansa into the shower. The warm water rushed over her naked body as Petyr stepped aside to give her room. She leant against him for support, the back of her head resting on his shoulder. He washed over body with soapy water, ridding her of the red stains etched on the inside of her thighs, all the while whispering to her words of praise. When he guided her back into the bedroom, the moon was already high in the sky, stars twinkling against the black velvet sky. It was perfect. A new night for a new life. Sansa felt so different, so right, so her. Petyr opened the window to allow her a better view as she rested on his bed. He returned with two glasses and a bottle of wine, handing the crimson liquid to Sansa, with a great smile on his lips. 

      Sansa settled on to his lap, his chin on the crown of the head, hands joined as she drifted to sleep. She didn't want to think about her family, her friends, the staring eyes, the talk they need to have, the talk they  _all_ needed to have. Not tonight. Instead she thought of him, his smell, his smile. She dreamt of them dancing, but this time they were alone and all she could see was the light.


End file.
